


Everyone Talks

by angel_vixen



Category: Voltron: Lion Voltron
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 19:19:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1399468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_vixen/pseuds/angel_vixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone knows the man who helped the Princess escape has come to Pollux to help her arm her planet for war.  But no one sees the same thing.  </p><p>Set between <i>There Will Be a Royal Wedding</i> and <i>One Princess to Another</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everyone Talks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thistlerose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thistlerose/gifts).



> As always, a big "thank you" to Gelsey, most stalwart beta ever.

They call him the "Wild Man" at court. How could he be anything else, they whisper when he isn't there. No one has ever survived the caves. No one. They all die of starvation, or thirst, or from their injuries. Some more quickly than others; perhaps that's to be preferred. How can anyone stand to be underground for so long, all alone in the dark?

Maybe the gods kept him alive so that he could save the Princess, Lady Ritta murmurs one night as all the Princess's ladies sit working one of her old gowns into something fitting for the journey to Arus that Prince Bandor announced just this evening at dinner. Maybe he was spared so that the little Prince would have his sister to help him, now that His Majesty and Prince Avok (may they sleep sweet in the arms of their fathers) are gone. But Lady Una hushes her, almost violently, and the look Lady Mayra gives her makes Lady Ritta duck her head to her task, flushing hotly in humiliation.

_Pollux has always been known for its might and strength. No one likes to admit that it took a crazed ex-slave to free their Princess, when all is said and done._

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Vanok hates when he draws the overnight watch on the wall-walk. It's not so bad in the spring, or even the early summer, but the cooler nights are worse because of the way the winds can whip a man about, that high above the ground.

He wraps his cloak around himself, more out of habit than from need at the moment, and leans carefully against one of the crenelles, turning his head to look out into the night. It's strange how everything can seem so peaceful in the dark, he thinks to himself, when it's obvious in the daylight how fragile their lives have become. He has no love for Zarkon, though he always agreed with His Majesty that joining with him would benefit them in the long run.

(But he can't say it really gained them anything, either, in the end.)

A soft motion to the side makes his shoulders stiffen, and his hand goes to the pommel of his sword as he turns his head warily to survey along the walk. It hasn't been that long since the last attack, and Vanok has never been a trusting sort of man.

Only years of training stops his eyebrows from rising to his hair-line.

Both of the Wild Man's hands are clenched on the stone of one of the crenelles several lengths away, and even from here, Vanok can tell the man's jaw is tight, though he isn't sure whether it's from anger or not. But the ex-pilot's appearance isn't what prompts surprise; it's the tell-tale glint of golden hair in the moonlight on his far side.

The Princess lays her hand over the closest of his, and her lips move, though her voice is too low for Vanok to hear. After a long moment, the black-haired man's shoulders begin to soften, only really visible to a man similarly trained. He turns his hand under hers, and their fingers twine slightly as they look out over the land together.

The whispers in the garrison are true, Vanok concludes in surprise. He'd chalked them up to rough men's speculation over a beautiful woman's doings, nothing more. He chews the inside of his lip as he watches the Princess shiver in a sudden flicker of breeze, then step gratefully under the Wild Man's thicker cloak when he hesitantly lifts one side.

 _Pollux's royal family has always boasted of its pure blood and its connections to many of the galaxy's other royal and noble families. Vanok can't help but wonder what the King would say to the idea of his daughter dallying with a simple **soldier**_.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Arella hates washing day. It's bad enough that many of Prince Bandor's tunics have to be washed by hand because the Coraltan thread he prefers doesn't hold up otherwise. But the worst is that all his blankets have to be dried on a line, because he loves the scent of them when they've been touched by both the sun and wind.

She thinks if he had to carry sopping, heavy armloads of them, all the way out to one of the most remote back courtyards, he'd change his tune. But maybe he'd find them light, since everyone knows he's been training harder lately. If he even thought about hauling them himself. He wouldn't, she knows, but grumbles to herself all she likes, anyway.

As she begins to pin one to the line, she basks in the unexpected, brilliant sunshine, deciding she'll take advantage and eat her lunch out here. She still hasn't made up with Tira after she went and kissed the stable-boy she _knows_ Arella has liked for _years_ , and she's so sick of the knowing looks the other women have been giving her. So much for friendship. Arella pins the left corner of the blanket a little more roughly than she should, and harumphs in the back of her throat.

...then jumps at the footsteps behind her. A whirl of fright sends her stumbling back a step, and she rights herself, wondering why anyone else would be down here. There's no garden or fountain, just stairs to several of the back towers. It's why the blankets hang here: no one will find them an eyesore because hardly anyone comes here.

Once she turns, Arella's eyes widen, and without thinking, she steps backward and behind the blanket she's hung, ducking her head and putting her palms to her flaming cheeks, as she thinks quickly. She's never seen the Princess this close before, and if that wasn't overwhelming enough, her Highness isn't alone. There's no way for her to leave without going through the archway where the Princess and the Wild Man are standing, and she doesn't want them to think she's _eavesdropping_.

When she chances a peek around the blanket again, she wrinkles her nose. She doesn't dare disturb them by leaving, so she supposes she better keep working. So she bends cautiously, slowly dragging out the top blanket as if moving too quickly will bring down a Robeast on her, then begins to pin it by straining her arms to the side so she can't see them.

When it becomes too much effort to pretend, Arella sighs silently and steps out fully, eyes doggedly on her task. She slowly relaxes, falling naturally into a rhythm, until she hears a soft noise that makes her hands stutter in surprise. She lifts the blanket in her hands to the line, head curving around it timidly, and she finds herself sighing. When the Princess appeared, her face had been serious, her body erect. She'd held onto the pilot's wrists with an earnest look, but now she's half-melted into his chest, face twisting in an anguish that makes Arella's own chest ache. She watches the Princess's hands come up to clutch at his shirt and marvels at the way the Wild Man's arms twine around her with a gentleness that seems incongruous with how Arella's seen him practice-fighting in the bailey with the Prince.

Arella ducks her head, arms still stretched over her head, and sighs more sadly. For the first time, she thinks, she doesn't envy this woman so far above her.

_Pollux is vulnerable now that it's no longer one of Zarkon's tributaries. The Prince is still fairly untried as a leader, and he has to make the most of every chance he has to gain back strength. Including his beautiful, spirited sister, who could make a truly brilliant marriage if he plays the cards right -- and Arella can't see how any of them hold the Wild Man._

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The castle awakens with a panic when Prince Bandor discovers his sister is gone. Knots of twos and threes litter the hallways between his suite and his sister's, making it difficult for Vinia to navigate without constantly bumping into someone. She is the first of the Princess's personal maids to arrive, and the moment someone brings attention to her, Bandor immediately turns on his heel to question her.

No, Your Highness, she can't say that her lady seemed out of sorts the evening before. No, Your Highness, nor ill. She'd seemed a bit distracted, but told them she was overthinking the preparations for the Yaxian envoy's visit, when Vinia and Lyna were helping her dress. And she had eaten better at dinner than she had the night before. She bites the inside of her lip as everyone continues to look at her expectantly. Of all the women who care for the Princess Romelle, Vinia has been with her longer than most; only a few of the most senior have more privileges. Her grief at having been visiting her family when the Princess was abducted is well-known: she atoned for her absence by ferociously guarding her lady ever since Romelle returned to Pollux. They expect her to do everything in her power to bring the Princess back.

But they can't understand that Vinia has done everything in her power to make sure the Princess was prepared to _leave_. And she can tell no one. She wouldn't have done so anyway, even if she hadn't already sworn on everything she held sacred. She's seen how the Wild Man brings out sparks of the fire Vinia remembers. She's sat up many long nights as her lady walked, sleepless and dry-eyed, fighting out of the grasp of demons Vinia cannot truly understand.

So she stays silent, and looks steadily at the Prince as he regards her with hope that slowly turns to steel-sharp questions until her head spins, though Vinia has said everything she can (or will).

The Princess's senior Lady of the Bedchamber fares no better. The one to raise the alarm, Lady Bea looks pale in the dimmed lights of the Prince's chamber, hand tight on the lapels of her robe. She cannot think of any warning they might have had, either, and Vinia bites her lip as she watches the Prince's mouth tighten and his eyes heat. He says nothing as he turns to the bank of windows overlooking the palace grounds. The room is still for a brief moment, and then he turns back to them and tells the advisors present they will have to follow Romelle and her space explorer.

Even Vinia, whom they call the Princess's Iron Maiden, feels faintly weak in the knees as the planning begins and the Prince turns his attention to Bannon, the valet assigned to the Wild Man, who has come in to stand behind her. He has as few clues as anyone -- he can only add that the space explorer hadn't been more aloof than usual. But when Bannon says that the pilot left the hall after dinner and remained away during the night's entertainment, the Prince's eyes are sharper. Vinia has never quite seen the Prince as anything but the younger brother of her mistress, a small spare in the shadow of Prince Avok, but she suddenly wonders now who he will be when he comes to manhood. Observant, yes, and bright, like his sister, and with the promise of strength like his brother had. But madness runs in the family, she's heard said; she hadn't thought much of it before Zarkon had come, when the court was bright, and the King strong and feared.

She watches as the Prince spins abruptly, striding for the door with a call for his personal guards, and orders Lady Bea to lead the maids in searching the Princess's quarters. The note his sister left crumples slightly in his hand as he tightens his fist.

_Pollux has declared for Arus, putting themselves right in the thick of the fight with Doom. The plan to take down Zarkon on his own planet is daring -- bold enough to go down in the history books if it succeeds. But if it goes wrong, everything on their world is forfeit. Vinia almost thinks she would take that risk herself, going into the dragon's den beside the only man known to cheat Doom's caves of their prey. At least, if she didn't succeed, she would die standing. As she lights a candle to the battle goddess, however, she prays as she has never prayed before, pleading for Her to see her mistress through what lies ahead. And after a moment, she lights another, and says a second for the Wild Man too._


End file.
